Steven hadn’t slept well in days as the temptation to give in to Ruth’s frequent and not-so-innocent advances grew stronger. Every day, she found some new way to insinuate herself into his space: sometimes subtle, sometimes overt, always persistent. The close quarters of the deli made conversation all but unavoidable, leaving Steven navigating a never-ending maze of nuanced questions and double entendre. And there were times, more than Steven would care to admit, when he asked himself why he was pushing her away her in the first place.
A flash of movement across the room caught Steven’s attention. He and Niklaus usually left the door to their quarters ajar a good foot or two to allow the air to circulate. Otherwise, the moist heat from the radiator left the room a sauna by morning.
There, in the space between door and jamb, a female figure stood silhouetted in the dim light coming from the kitchen. Though over three months had passed since his icon had served as anything more than a marble paperweight, Steven instinctively grabbed for the pawn resting on the floor beneath his makeshift bed.
“Who’s there?”
“Sorry,” came a whispered voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” The form retreated into the kitchen a step, Ruth’s curls reflecting the scant light of the space like strands of solid gold.
“Is everything all right?” Acutely aware he wore nothing but a torn pair of gym shorts, Steven pulled a sheet across his lap. “What time is it?”
“A little after one,” Ruth said, her voice quiet and more than a little sad. “Can we talk?”
“Well, we’re both up, it seems.” Steven reached for his pants. “Let me get on some clothes, and I’ll come out. We can put on some cocoa. All right?”
“Okay.” Ruth stepped out of the doorway, leaving Steven confused in the near darkness. Had the dream been a prophetic vision? Considering the images still circulating in his mind’s eye, he banished the thought.
Steven slipped on one of his two pairs of jeans, a flannel shirt, and socks and stepped out of the storage room, leaving Niklaus to saw logs in relative peace. Ruth stood on her tip-toes with her back to him, reaching for a large brown tin from the top shelf. She wore pink-and-white-striped pajamas that, despite their loose fit, showed off her dancer’s form. Steven crept up behind her silently, trying at some level to put off the inevitable, if even for another few seconds.
“Here, let me help.” Steven reached past her and grasped the can of powdered cocoa, the tin much lighter than the first time he’d pulled it down weeks ago. “Hmm. Looks like we’re running a little low.”
Since their arrival, the evening beverage of choice at Dante’s Deli had been hot chocolate. Sometimes the four of them and sometimes just Steven and Ruth, the warm sweetness had become an all but expected part of most evenings, though the post-midnight rendezvous made for quite a different experience.
As Steven brought the industrial-sized can down and set it on the counter, his elbow brushed Ruth’s shoulder. Her body stiffened at his touch, causing scenes from his dream to again flash unbidden across his thoughts.
Along with a fresh wave of guilt.
Ruth grabbed a couple of mugs and prepared each with three heaping spoonfuls of cocoa as Steven set some milk on the gas stove to boil. After a tense minute or so, he broke the silence.
“So, what’s got you up at this hour?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Ruth raised both arms above her head and stretched as she valiantly fought back a yawn. “I’d been lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for an hour or two. Thought I’d come down and see if you were up.”
“Bad dreams?”
“Oh, nothing like that.” She brought her hands before her in a dancer’s pose. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Like what?” Even Steven debated whether he was playing dumb or, in fact, fishing for a response.
“A million different things.” Ruth sighed. “Tommy’s last letter said he’s due back in a month but he’s going to miss Christmas. Papa’s still hobbling around from twisting his ankle last Tuesday, so I’ve barely set foot out of the deli in nine days. I’m doing my best to stay in shape—even practiced in the alley out back this week—but there are only so many hours in the day.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Steven shot a glance back in the direction of their quarters. “You know…unlike your dad’s, Nik’s leg is almost back at a hundred percent. He and I both could step up and help out a little more around here. Your dad’s been letting us work alternating shifts since he hired that new kid last week, but we’re both available every day if you need us.”
“Oh, sure, that would fix everything.” Ruth did little to hide the sarcasm in her tone.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t you know?” Ruth asked, her gaze incredulous. “Are you completely oblivious?”
“Just spill it, Ruth.” Steven crossed his arms. “What are you trying to say?”
“You want to know what’s on my mind?” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s got Ruth all in a dither? Well, I’ll tell you, Steven. It’s you. Or, more specifically, us.” Before Steven could respond, Ruth’s hands shot up in exasperation.
“Look, I’ve been throwing myself at you for weeks, staying late after the dinner shift, skipping practice to be here in the morning for set up, and nothing. It’s like you’re ignoring me, and sometimes, it seems on purpose. The whole thing is getting a bit embarrassing.” Ruth’s gaze fell to the floor. “I really thought you liked me.”
“I do like you, but—”
“What’s wrong, then? Don’t you find me attractive?” She looked up at him with those brown movie star eyes, and it took everything Steven had to look away.
“Of course I do.” He clawed through his hair. “It’s just…there are things you don’t know. Things I wish I could tell you but can’t.”
Her hands went to her hips. “We’ve stood side by side eight to twelve hours a day for over a month, Steven Bauer. What kind of secrets could you be keeping? You’ve got to sleep sometime.”
“It’s nothing like that, and everything with us is fine. It’s something from before I met you.” Steven met her gaze. “Actually…someone.”
“Oh.” The color rose in Ruth’s cheeks bringing a remembrance of Ruth’s own comment about his poker face, or lack thereof, a remark that wouldn’t be made for another sixty years. A grin broke across his face.
“This isn’t funny.” Ruth rose from the table and stalked to the sink. “I didn’t come down here in the middle of the night to be laughed at.”
Steven stifled a reflexive chuckle. “Oh, come on, Ruth. I’m not laughing at you.” He checked on the not-yet-boiling milk and joined her at the counter. “I was just remembering something an old friend said to me once.”
“You must love this.” Ruth buried her face in her hands. “Having a woman sneak into your room in the middle of the night gushing like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind.”
“You think I love this?” Steven’s eyebrows shot up in exasperation. “You think this is easy? Take a look around, Ruth. The two of us? Here? The middle of the night? Alone? Do you know how easy it would be to just—”
The color in Ruth’s cheeks rose another notch, her expression shifting decidedly more wistful. “So, you do feel it.” She turned to face Steven, her trademark mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Whatever would this ‘someone’ of yours think?”
Steven immediately regretted his words. “Now look who’s making fun.”
“Sorry. Just glad to know I’m not the only one flapping in the breeze here.” Ruth pulled a little closer. “What’s her name?”
“Audrey.” Just speaking her name made his pulse race faster. “Her name is Audrey.”
“Audrey, huh?” Ruth’s piercing gaze fixed Steven to the spot. “And where exactly is this mysterious woman who hasn’t come up in conversation in almost two months?”
“I wish I knew.” Steven’s shoulders dropped. “Believe me.”
“She left you
?”
“We’re…separated at the moment.”
“You’re married?” Ruth swatted Steven’s arm. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“No, Ruth. I’m not married. That’s not it at all.” Steven peered up at the ceiling as if searching for some sort of answer. “Audrey and I? We’re physically separated. I haven’t seen her in months and have no idea where she might be.” He let out a long sigh. “To be honest, I’m not even sure she’s alive.”
“Not sure she’s…alive?” For the first time in his memory, Ruth’s voice took on a tone of alarm. “Steven, what in the world have you gotten yourself into?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” His eyes slid closed. “Most days, I can barely believe it myself.”
“But you are in some kind of trouble, aren’t you?”
“Not at the moment.” Steven shot another sidelong glance in the direction of their bunks. “But if everything goes according to plan, I’ll be right back in the thick of it before you know it.”
Ruth touched Steven’s arm. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”
In the weeks since arriving in 1945, Steven had spent most of his waking moments trying to figure out how to get back to their own time, to the Game, to Audrey. The addition of Ruth to the picture had, at times, muddied the waters a bit, but no. Their plan was set, their path clear.
“It’s what I’ve got to do.” Steven rubbed his brow. “I don’t have any choice.”
“Before she died, Mama used to say, ‘There’s always a choice.’ Maybe this crazy plan you and Niklaus have to get back to this Audrey person will work. Maybe it won’t. Only time will tell. Right now, though? I’m the one standing here.” Ruth’s eyes and lips melted into an innocent yet knowing smile. “So, I guess what I’m asking is, here and now at one-thirty in the morning in my father’s kitchen, what are you going to do, Steven Bauer?”
Steven’s stomach churned like he’d swallowed a brick with a side of mortar. “You know, you don’t have to make this so damn difficult.”
“But that’s just it, Steven.” Ruth edged closer. “It’s not difficult. It’s not difficult at all.” She brushed the back of her fingers across Steven’s cheek. “We’re just two lonesome people who managed to find each other right here in the middle of the greatest city in the world.” Her head tilted to one side as she pulled in tight to Steven’s body, her eyes drifting closed. “Miracles like that don’t happen every day.”
Steven pulled away. “But this isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen, Ruth. I can’t explain it any better than that. Just understand that I know without a shred of doubt I’m not the man for you.” He avoided her gaze. “Even if I wanted to be.”
“You know?” Ruth’s nostrils flared, her eyes wide with frustration. “What the hell kind of thing is that to say?”
“Listen, it’s just—”
“No. You listen.” Ruth put her finger in Steven’s chest. “Do you think I’m stupid? Can’t figure things out for myself? You and Niklaus show up in New York City, no identification, no job, no money, somehow avoided the draft.” She eyed him warily. “You’re on the run.”
“That’s a part of it.” Steven shook his head. “Mostly, we’re just out of our element.”
“Are you with the mob?” Ruth crossed her arms and studied Steven, curiosity cutting the anger in her gaze. “Or maybe…spies?” She inclined her head toward the back room. “Niklaus is a great guy, but it’s pretty clear every time he opens his mouth that he’s not from around here.”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that.” Steven searched for a way to explain the situation in a way that wouldn’t have Ruth calling for the men in white to take him away. “Still, Nik and I are in a bit of a jam. We came to New York to find the only person we know of that can help us.”
“Wait,” she asked, a hint of fear coloring her words. “Are we in danger? Papa?”
“Honestly, the less you know, the better off you’ll be.” Steven rested a gentle hand on Ruth’s shoulder. “Once we catch up with the man we’re looking for, everything should sort itself out, at least I hope so. God knows I haven’t a clue what we’ll do if he can’t help us.”
“You talk in circles, Steven Bauer.” Despite her exasperation, Ruth smiled. “You know that?”
Steven laughed, Grey’s face flashing across his mind’s eye. “I was taught by the best.”
“Well, looks like you’re going to be sticking around for a while.” Ruth motioned to the space between them. “We still need to figure out what we’re going to do about this.”
“I told you, Ruth. I can’t. No matter what either of us feels, there’s—”
Ruth put her finger across Steven’s lips. “I don’t want to hear any more about your crazy plans, and I definitely don’t want to hear any more about her.” She wrapped a lithe arm around Steven’s waist and pulled him close. “There are only two people in this room right now, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“But—”
Ruth quieted Steven’s protest with a kiss. The first was soft, like a rose petal falling onto still water. The second, however, was passionate. Desperate.
“Ruth,” Steven muttered as she pulled away to take a breath. “Stop.” Even as he spoke the words, he felt his resolve begin to crumble. “Please.”
A quiet cough from across the room interrupted the moment. Steven looked past Ruth and found the girl’s father standing in the doorway that led to the Mathesons’ upstairs apartment. Ruth spun out of Steven’s arms and gasped as she met her father’s strangely calm stare.
The scarlet in Stuart Matheson’s cheeks matched the thinning red hair atop his head, the vein that divided his forehead bulging as if it were fit to burst. He opened his mouth to speak, but rather than the shouting Steven expected, the man’s voice came out quiet and exact.
“Mr. Bauer, would you mind explaining exactly what you’re doing standing in the kitchen of my restaurant at one-thirty in the morning kissing my only daughter?”
“It’s not what it looks like, Mr. Matheson.” As the words exited his mouth, Steven wondered if the first few decades of motion pictures had already left them as cliché as they hit his ears. “I swear.”
“Don’t worry, Papa,” Ruth grumbled. “Steven has made it abundantly clear he’s not interested in pursuing this matter any further.” And with that, she stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving Steven alone with her father.
“Well,” Mr. Matheson said after what seemed an hour of painful silence, “let’s hear it.”
“Ruth came down earlier. Said she couldn’t sleep and wanted to talk.” New heat rose in Steven’s cheeks. “I think she—we—got caught up in the moment.”
“So, what you’re telling me,” Matheson muttered, crossing his arms, “is that Ruth, my Ruthie, is responsible for all this?”
“No, sir.” Steven suspected his first name basis with Stuart Matheson had taken a hit. “My father always said it takes two to tango.” Ugh. Another platitude. “But I didn’t plan this. Not after everything you and your family have done for Nik and me.”
Matheson took a limping step into the room, his ankle still clearly causing him some difficulty, and motioned to the table where Steven and Ruth had been sitting moments before. “So, how long has this been going on? Surely you don’t expect me to believe I just happened to walk in on your first little liaison.”
“Oh, tonight was definitely a first.” Steven let out a nervous chuckle. “Believe me.” He sat at the table and Matheson joined him. “You’ve got to know I never meant for this to happen.”
“Bullshit.” Matheson stared earnestly across the table, the redness in his face fading with each passing second. “I may be getting older, but my eyes work just fine. I see how Ruth looks at you.” He chanced a careful grin. “And how you look at her.”
Steven raised an eyebrow. “What are you saying?”
“What I’m saying is…well…I suppose…” Matheson’s expression shifted fro
m scarcely controlled anger to something akin to acceptance. “Ruth could do a hell of a lot worse.”
“I don’t understand.” Truth be told, Steven understood perfectly. The realization filled him with an entirely different sort of trepidation.
“You’re clean cut, a hard worker, dependable, and get along with pretty much everyone you meet.” Matheson studied Steven with an appraiser’s eye. “Things have certainly been a lot easier around here since you showed up.”
“Thanks.” Steven rested his elbows on the table. “Just doing our part to earn our keep.”
“So,” Matheson said through a half-smile. “I suppose this is the part where I ask you your intentions.”
“Intentions?”
“You’re sleeping under my roof, eating from my table, and apparently spending more time with my daughter than even I’d realized. I’d just like to know where your head is.” He waited in vain for an answer. “You know. Plans for the future. Where you see yourself a decade from now. That sort of thing.”
Steven searched for anything that might stem the tide of this conversation. Grey was due back from Europe in just over a month, at which point the topic of Steven and Ruth’s future would hopefully become moot. Still, a lot could happen in a month.
“Mr. Matheson, I mean you and your family no disrespect, but I wasn’t blowing smoke before when I told you I never meant for anything to occur between Ruth and me.”
“Oh.” The smile melted from Matheson’s face. “I see.”
“It’s just that…Niklaus and I are only going to be around for another few weeks. After that, you won’t be seeing us anymore.” Steven cleared his throat. “You have to know I’d never hurt your daughter. What you saw tonight won’t happen again. It can’t.”
Steven and Ruth’s father stared across the table at each other for what seemed an eternity. Then, just when Steven couldn’t take another second, Matheson reached out a hand and slapped his shoulder.
“I’ve got to tell you, Steven. My daughter has had boys swarming around her since she hit twelve, but you’re the first I’d even consider letting near her. I don’t understand everything you’ve got going on, but I appreciate your candor. That being said, though, I don’t envy you having to tell Ruth—”
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